


The Same Place

by Zither



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Banter, Bitterness, Ficlet, Lack of Communication, M/M, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-29 04:27:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12623176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zither/pseuds/Zither
Summary: Shaxx and Saladin have no unresolved feelings regarding each other. None at all.Also, those feelings were in no way stirred up by Saladin's disappearance and subsequent return. Shaxx'll fight anyone who says otherwise.





	The Same Place

Saladin had held the doors.

That was the one point all their stories lined up on. _He rang the bells to warn us!,_ a newborn Warlock had cried, limned in a Light she'd had no real opportunity to play with before it was torn away from her. _No,_ a hard-nosed Hunter had disagreed. _The bells rang. They warned him._ Whichever it had been, their accounts from then on converged: Saladin had herded them all into the Temple, ignited an axe, and stood fast against wave after wave of Red Legion striving to pull off a smaller-scale version of what they'd done to the City. _He sent us into the tunnels,_ the Warlock had said, dimming a little. _Told us how to avoid the pits and dead ends._ The Hunter had shaken their head. _Not my team. Our orders were to protect the inner sanctum, no matter what._ Underneath his helmet, Shaxx's mouth had twisted. "Of course they were," he'd said. Sod professionalism. It was enough that he hadn't gone on to say: of course Saladin had held Vostok, and never mind how much he lost in the holding. Of course he'd chosen pretty iron memories over the City's living flesh and metal. Of course he hadn't come running to rebuild a place that had never belonged to him the way it did to Shaxx, a sense of home felt deep down below layers of plate and skin and power. Of course.

Now, as he stood in the doorway with his eyes on Saladin's gunmetal-and-gold back, he realised he had no idea what to say. The return of the Traveller's gift had sharpened his senses. For all that he'd fought to forget it, he knew Saladin's signature better than anyone but Zavala's; it had hit him like a blow to the solar plexus as he'd approached the hub. He didn't want to talk. He wanted to peel back that protective shielding and touch it, fierce as wildfire and fine as ash. His mouth was dry, an unwelcome reminder of mortal thirst. It wasn't all about some spiritual urge. Here, as open and raw as the Light's remembered loss had left him, he couldn't shake the image of Saladin bent over a table in more enjoyable circumstances. Of Saladin bending him over a table in more enjoyable circumstances.

Ghost shifted on his shoulder, a tiny yearning toward. _You stop._ Without clearing his throat, he said, "Took you long enough."

No response. Typical. Saladin had given him the screaming argument he'd sought to provoke all of once in their immortal lives, and it hadn't felt like a victory. If not for the slight inclination of his head, Shaxx might have assumed he wasn't listening. Wouldn't be the first time. Glancing up at the bank of screens and monitoring equipment above, he reminded himself he'd come here for a purpose. "I got your comm."

An almost imperceptible straightening, at that. Huh.

"Sure you want to announce?" He didn't bother trying to hide his resentment. No doubt Saladin thought he could do a better job, make his Banner champions love him as much as they respected and feared Shaxx. "Lady Efrideet didn't."

A flinch. Shaxx cursed himself. Even chasing a fight as he was, he hadn't meant to push his fingertips into that particular wound. It tugged at him, too, to think of Efrideet's name back on the missing list. He'd liked the reality as much as the stories. When Saladin spoke, his tone was flat. "Why? You're not worried my poor old lungs might wear out, are you?"

Centuries gone, and the effect that _fucking_ voice still had on him... it was just another reason to be angry. "Don't expect me to wait on standby with a flask of rosanthemum tea."

"Never." He could hear the barest hint of a smile in Saladin's voice. One of these days, Shaxx would record him for the benefit of every neophyte Guardian who thought he had as much capacity for humour as his beloved statues did. "I'll pour my own."

That left a gap in the conversation. Shaxx could have filled it with all sorts of things: snide remarks, scathing jabs, any number of exasperated grunts. He didn't. Instead, he took a step forward, and Saladin turned around.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I want to write a longer Saladin/Shaxx fic someday, but until then - take this! What do you do when canon doesn't give you the awkward reunions you yearn for? Ficlet them yourself, of course.


End file.
